


Three in the Bed

by the_real_cactus_betty



Series: You, Me. Us [3]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Bedsharing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Parents, no beta we die like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_real_cactus_betty/pseuds/the_real_cactus_betty
Summary: When the thunder rumbles, there is only one place to go.*The third and final part of Spinster Table/Nook of Love.*
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: You, Me. Us [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161011
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	Three in the Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurora2020](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora2020/gifts).



> Aurora2020, you missed out on Galentine’s, so for Valentine’s please accept this gift to you, my friend.
> 
> Being a gift this has missed your keen beta eyes, so please gracefully skim over all the spelling errors or odd phrasing.  
> Happy Valentines.  
> xo
> 
> \----------
> 
> This is the third and final part of Spinster Table/Nook of Love. You don't need to have read them to enjoy.

Rain pummels the house in sheets, gutters overflowing, pouring torrents onto the recently weeded garden beds below. Lightning casts its brief, white glow over the walls, then plunges the room back into blackness. Monsoonal moisture traveling from Mexico collides with the late-summer heat making the air outside like soup, the twisted Jasmine vine by their bedroom window emitting its heady scent. Inside, the hum of the air-conditioner keeps them comfortable, a blanket pulled high, condensation dripping down the windowpanes. 

Logan has his eyes closed, but he’s not asleep. The thunder roused him, starting its sullen drumroll, continuing in staggered jumps into a livid beat. He turns to the right, flips his pillow to the cool side, re-nestles. The storm finds its hush, resting for a moment. Logan seeks a warm slender hip to rest his palm. His face to her hair in a tumble on the sheets, the coconut shampoo overpowering the jasmine. 

*****

Blue eyes dart open, looking around the dark room before quickly jumping from the bed.

The tempo of fast-paced feet pad across the oak flooring. She holds out her palm to the wall for guidance. Lightning illuminates the hall, followed closely by a sharp crack of nearby thunder. Her pace increases with the sound, pushing open the bedroom door, running to the bedside. There she places a small hand on the shoulder of her dad. 

He opens his eyes to three feet of girl, mats of blonde hair fall over her face, a nervous eye peeping in the darkness.

“Come on in,” Logan whispers, opening the covers and outstretching a hand. The little one is too small to climb onto the bed unaided, so he boosts her up. Another rumble of thunder and she finishes her scramble, pulling herself under the sheets, wrapping short arms as far as she can around his neck and burrowing deep.

He would blame it on the thunder if she didn’t do this each and every night. 

Her name is Madeline, but she is mostly called Moo. Maddi-Moo. She now introduces herself by her nickname and when her grandfather makes wailing moo sounds to tease her, she does it right back, cackling hysterically. She wears purple cow-print pajamas, convinced she is part bovine. All objects in her possession must be cow related. Except of course her blankie, a relic from infant years. Once a pale white lamb blanket, it is now a frayed, graying rag, that smelled of too much love and lays draped on Logan’s chest.

Veronica turns and wraps herself around his left side, Madeline on his right. A clap of thunder explodes above them, directly overhead. She reaches over and runs her fingers through her daughter’s hair, whispering soothing shushes as her body trembles.

Veronica and Maddi are the bread in their love-sandwich, Logan the cheese. He closes his eyes. They all drift back to sleep quickly, warm in their nest despite the storm overhead. 

*****

Logan opens his eyes. The sun has returned, drying the soggy ground. A robin perched in a tree outside trills a chorus. The smell of bacon and Sunday morning wafts down the hall, rousing his stomach awake.

Veronica’s place in the bed has been replaced by a large copper boxer who uses her pillow as his own. His long body flanks Maddi as she dozes, chubby fingers finding comfort in the soft fur.

Logan runs a fingertip across the bridge of Madeline’s nose and her eyelids open with a snap. Bright and cheerful and instantly awake without an ounce of caffeine. She smiles at him, dimples in overdrive, the blue of her eyes almost iridescent.

“Morning sleepyhead.”

“Daddy I comed into your bed again,” she speaks, but she still has trouble saying hard g’s and it sounds like a-den.

“You sure did. Was it snuggly?”

She nods, “Mommy snored.”

Logan chuckles, “Yes, mommy does that sometimes.”

“Your hair looks funny,” she points to his head. His brown tresses standing to ruffled attention. 

“Your hair looks pretty funny too munchkin,” he takes a chunk of blonde strands and holds them directly in the air. She responds by giggling and burying her face in the pillow in an attempt to hide.

“Should we get up?” He asks. 

She shakes her head vigorously, “No. I need _all_ the cuddles.”

“ALL of them?”

She tries to lift his arm, but it’s too heavy for her little hands. So he obliges, lifting it high, and she snuggles down into the spot. The spot between his shoulder and his chest, a slope perfectly crafted for the nestling of a head. A warm rosy cheek rests against his skin, listening to his heartbeat. She stops wiggling for a tenth of a second, long enough to tickle him with tendrils of hair as they sweep onto his neck.

They hear footsteps approaching and freeze. Blue eyes gaze at him, vibrating with excitement. 

“Should we hide?” He asks.

She nods furiously. They bundle beneath the sheets, their cloak barely covering the muffled giggles coming from her mouth. 

The door opens with a familiar creak.

Then all goes quiet. 

One footstep.

Another.

Soft and light against the floors. Even Logan starts to feel the excitement. The anticipation of waiting to be discovered, not knowing the exact moment it will happen. Hollow betrays the activity outside the blankets, the thumping of his tail quickening.

Maddi makes a loud “shhhh,” towards Logan. 

The footsteps stop. 

A burst of daylight explodes as the covers are ripped from their makeshift cave.

Veronica’s face peers down at them from above. Maddi is roaring with laughter at their excellent hiding place, amazed to be found so quickly. She grips Logan’s torso tight and snuggles back down, hiccuping from the excitement. 

“Hey, that’s my spot!” Veronica says to Maddi, pointing a playful finger.

“Nup. Mine now,” she retorts with a cheeky smile, whip quick like her mom, burrowing deeper in the nook. 

Veronica sighs dramatically, pouts a sad face, and Logan opens up the other arm, allowing her in. 

She flops down, curling up on the right side of him, facing her daughter over Logan’s chest.

“You know something?” Veronica says, staring into blue eyes identical to her own, “One night, a long time ago at Uncle Wallace’s wedding, I cuddled daddy just like this and I realized I loved him, that I'd really always loved him.”

Logan looks down at her, soft grin on his face and kisses the top of his wife’s hairline. He thinks of a night in a dark hotel room when she climbed beneath his sheets, a single moment that led to all of _this._

“It’s a good cuddle,” Maddi agrees with a nod, “I guess we can share him.”


End file.
